


Notice

by suyari



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M, Marvel 616 (Freeform)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 00:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Layla knows stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notice

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the X-men.
> 
> Warning: Slight spoilers for Post CW X-factor.

Jamie looked up from his second Tequila Sunrise as the door to the bar opened for the fourth time in half an hour. He'd needed to get out. The constant surveillance was starting to grate on his nerves. He'd asked Layla for a lead, hoping to stumble onto a case. She'd given him an address to a bar on West fourth, and so far, Jamie had sat on the stool for a total of three hours with no immediate direction in sight. Usually, Layla's leads were good within the first hour. Most of them occurring within fifteen minutes of operating time. Why this particular lead was taking so damn long, Jamie couldn't be sure.

Retrieving his cell phone from his jacket pocket, he intended to check the time but found a text message instead.

**Be patient.**

Great. Layla was keeping tabs on his restlessness now. They needed to get her a hobby. Maybe a boyfriend. Jamie thought about all that had occurred within their group in the past six months and decided, they were all better off if she didn't. Which left him with nothing but a hobby to plan and another empty glass.

"Another?" asked the bartender, as Jamie signaled him over.

"Yeah."

"Waiting on anyone specific?"

"Honestly, you could call it a blind date."

"Ah." The man nodded, and exchanged Jamie's empty glass with a fresh mixed one. "Fella like you?"

"Don't I look the type?" he asked, taking a deep drink.

The elder man made a noise through his teeth before replying. "Wouldna pegged it, myself."

"Yeah, I'm full of surprises."

Fifteen minutes later, he was growing antsy. He'd received another text message, **He's having a bad day. Give him a break.** and was well on his way to considering leaving a dupe in his place. He'd stopped looking up at the door every time it chimed, figuring if he was going to meet this person anyway, he'd meet him regardless.

So he wasn't quite paying attention when the door opened and someone moved to sit beside him. The sudden stillness however, as well as a flash of white from the corner of his eye alerted him. He wasn't quite as shocked as he figured he would have been _before_ Layla.

"What can I get you?"

The taller man exhaled heavily and waved a hand tiredly. "Just hit me hard and keep 'em coming."

"Warren?"

The blonde looked to his right and upon seeing him, gave a small smile. "Hey Jamie. I'm in your neighborhood?"

Jamie laughed sardonically. "If you can call it that."

"I heard your people are cozy with Val."

"It's a mutually beneficial arrangement." He tipped his glass in Warren's direction and took a sip. "And currently temporary. If we so much as _sneeze_ in the wrong direction, we'll be handed our collective asses."

"Hmm," replied Warren, taking another shot. His fifth, Jamie noted offhandedly.

"Bad day?" he asked, leaning into the counter.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"You know what you need?"

"Mmm?" he replied, tipping his head back.

"A blow job."

Warren choked, and Jamie, laughing amusedly, ordered a set.

The winged mutant was still trying hard not to wheeze, when the bartender set them down.

"Now," said Jamie, turning in his seat. "You know how to drink these, right?"

"No hands, tentacles, or telekinesis...Yeah, yeah..."

"Wanna do a few?"

"Why not."

"Whoever slips up first, pays the check."

Warren eyed him skeptically.

"Swear I won't cheat," Jamie replied, holding both hands up innocently.

Warren gave a disbelieving snort, but took his shot instead of commenting.

Jamie smiled, and followed.

Fourteen shots later, neither had missed one, and Jamie couldn't feel his hands.

Warren had taken to angling his tongue into the glass, to draw in all the whipped cream, so it wouldn't end up on his lips. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the many brushes with sexually questionable dupes, but either way, Jamie found it hot. And his jeans were starting to feel a little too tight.

By seventeen, Jamie was panting.

Warren's eyes looked a little glassy, but he usually drank with Hank and Logan, so Jamie was pretty sure he had a way to go before he started feeling it as much as Jamie was currently feeling it. As Warren set the glass down, Jamie mimicked the action and slapped both hands upon the counter. "I forfeit!" he announced. There came some jeering from the other patrons who had started to watch them as a form of entertainment. Most of them, Jamie knew, were waiting for Warren to show signs of crashing. Since M day, seeing mutants even in mutant town was becoming a rarer occurrence. And most of the remaining mutants with extra extremities were nowhere near close to having those additional limbs be beautiful.

Warren's wings had always been attractive. But, this far from the previous norm, they were even more spectacular. Jamie could tell half the people in the bar wanted to fuck Warren just because of them. The other half saw how honestly attractive the _rest_ of him was, and would bed him on that basis alone. All of them wanted him for his looks. God help them if they found out he was rich.

Dropping his last couple of hundreds, Jamie told ol' Mack to keep the change, and grabbing Warren by the elbow, dragged him from the bar with a bit more eagerness than normal. He blamed the liquor, and Warren's continued ignorance towards just how attractive he really was.

For his part, Warren followed, without complaint. Perhaps glad to be rid of the audience. Some fresh air would be good for them both anyway.

"Want to talk about it?" Jamie asked, after a few blocks.

"Not much to talk about."

Jamie shrugged.

They continued for a few minutes, before Warren said, "You know, we don't know each other very well. I mean, we've known each other for years, and..."

Jamie smiled into his collar. "Yeah, funny how that works, eh? I think the only thing we have in common is the mutant gig."

"Hmm," said Warren. It was not as thoughtful as Jamie would have hoped. More, dismissive than accepting.

"Well, look, there's the obvious," Jamie continued, for some reason not wanting to stop this sudden openness between them - courtesy of the alcohol. "You've traveled a lot, but always had money. I bounced around a lot, but never had money. You're a high powered billionaire. I'm an underpaid P.I. You've got an active power that you at least understand. Mine...well, I'm still coming to grips with mine. You're a socialite playboy, and my idea of a good party is a kegger where you don't have to replace the keg or lose your deposit come morning. You're tall, blonde, and always the center of attention. And though I hate to admit it, I'm a brunet of average height and build, who frankly, has to send my dupes out into the world to have a life."

Warren stopped, so Jamie stopped. Turning to face him, he was prepared to smile, but frowned instead, as he saw the way Warren's brow was furrowed.

"Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"You aren't average, Jamie. You're far from average."

"In that I'm still a mutant?" He snorted softly. "Believe me, I get that."

"No, I meant..."

He couldn't seem to find the right words. Instead, Jamie found himself caught by the elbows and drawn close. Having never been in such a situation before, he didn't fight it. Some part of him eager to find out what all the fuss was about, and whether deep down, he really was or not. He bit his lip as he met Warren's eyes, feeling like a stupid kid, and not knowing exactly how to correct that.

Unfortunately, Warren seemed similarly lost. In the back of his mind, Jamie felt something snap, and with a softly breathed, "Fuck it," reached up and drew Warren down.

How they got back to headquarters, Jamie would never really discern. All he knew was he'd never had better sex in his life. Maybe, his dupes had something to their teasing. Maybe it wasn't just to annoy and confuse him.

As he happily padded into the kitchen, Layla looked up from her book.

"How'd that lead work out for you?"

Jamie smiled widely. "Pretty good. Thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome," she replied, looking back to her book and turning a page.

Jamie opened the fridge, and noted someone had done some interesting shopping. Pulling out the whip cream, he gave it a bit of a shake and smiled to himself.

"I sent the others on that case you wanted looked into. And I'm leaving for the library in half an hour."

Jamie set the canister next to two cups of coffee on a tray that sat waiting.

"Good work," he said, lifting the tray.

Layla just hummed.

"Of course," she acknowledged, after he left. Laying her book down, she crossed the room and set her empty cereal bowl in the sink.

"I'm Layla Miller. I know stuff."


End file.
